


Footsteps -- Prologue

by PinkRabbitPro



Series: Footsteps [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, magic baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRabbitPro/pseuds/PinkRabbitPro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prologue of a series I've had in mind for awhile exploring how two people could possibly go from profound hate to equally profound friendship and love and how a family could be built on that foundation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footsteps -- Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a weird little idea I've had in my head for awhile. Much as I like this pairing in some ways, it can be hard for me to resolve the season one hate with falling in love, so I've wanted to show how that journey could be made over time. The plan is a series told in mostly small snippets. It will mostly follow canon through S4, but will take its fair share of deviations. It's kinda non linear in my head, but I am actually trying to wrestle it into a more coherent form. Of course it could all fall apart completely and blow up in my face. You have been warned.

**The End**

Emma’s voice was soft, fear threatening to take it away entirely. "I don’t blame you if you want out or if you can’t ... if you don’t want..." She stumbled over her words, then to a halt and paused for a long moment, breathing deeply to ease the sudden influx of stress. Finally, she looked up again, uncertain whether it made things better or worse when she saw how closely Regina was watching her. "I know you’ve spent a lot of your life with no choices ... trapped ... forced into roles you didn’t want." She shook her head, guilt for things her mother and grandfather had done to this woman nearly driving her to flee. "I don’t ever want to do that to you..." Nearly overwhelmed by a sudden rush of doubts, she fell silent, terrified that despite any intentions to the contrary, she was making all the same mistakes and pinning the other woman in. The longer Regina went without speaking, the more the fear grew.

"Emma," Regina began at last, her voice low, tone serious. "What do _you_ want?"

Drawing a sharp breath, she froze, so many things on the tip of her tongue, and so many uncertainties holding her back that she had no idea how to respond. "I don’t know what to..." she started to respond only to lose her voice and her nerve.

"Just be honest," Regina exhaled, sounding every bit as exhausted as Emma felt.

"I want everything," Emma admitted before she could think better of it.

"Everything?" Regina questioned doubtfully, her tone more bitter than she intended. "Or just—"

"Everything," Emma whispered, the words barely getting past the tightness in her throat. "I want our life, our home, kids ... everything we were building—"

Dark eyes fell away. "You can have that without—"

"No!" Emma hissed, then repeated more softly, "No." Taking a step closer, she reached out unbidden, to cup her palm along Regina’s cheek. Gently guiding the other woman’s chin up, she searched dark eyes. "Look at me," she commanded tenderly. "Can’t you see?"

"I don’t..." Regina trailed off uncertainly.

"I love you," Emma whispered into the silence.

Neither ever remembered who moved first, but Regina was suddenly sinking into Emma, her body trembling, fingers digging in as she clung tightly, while Emma wrapped her arms tightly around slim shoulders, holding on with raw desperation. "Don’t let go," she begged near Regina’s ear. "Please don’t let go."

"Never..."

* * * * * *

  ****

**The Middle**

Tiny hands reached for trailing fingers, batting clumsily in their wake without making contact while Emma Swan tipped her head to one side and studied the tiny figure in the basinet before her.

Not that she had a lot of experience, but babies had always looked pretty much the same to Emma; small, chubby limbs, round heads, mostly bald with just a sprinkling of near-transparent threads, but occasionally a shock of dark hair right on top. She’d never seen the oft-mentioned resemblance to this or that adult that others were wont to comment on and privately considered the whole idea fairly silly.

This infant was absolutely no exception. She bore no resemblance to anyone that Emma could see, no familiar bone structure, but also no horns, tail, thunderclouds, or floating fireballs that might give any further clues as to her background either. As far as Emma could tell, she was pretty much just a baby. Maybe a little cuter than average, but Emma was honest enough to realize that she wasn’t necessarily entirely objective on that front. After all, she was kinda family of a sort.

"Hey kiddo," she whispered very softly after a long moment. "I brought your big brother. He’s waiting outside ... and he’s really excited to meet you." She glanced over at the woman sound asleep in the nearby hospital bed and let out a soft sigh. "And find out why your mom felt like she had to run away to have you." She looked back down at the tiny figure, her expression an odd mix of hopeful and sad, startled by the intensity of emotion that swept through her as the reality of this tiny, completely new person swept through her. "And even though I’m not quite sure what’s gonna happen and I know I don’t have a real tie to you, I hope you’ll consider me family some day and know that I will always protect you just the way I would Henry." She had no idea why she felt the need to make such a heartfelt pledge, only that she did.

Dark brown eyes stared seriously up at her, giving the sense the infant was considering her words carefully. It was slightly unnerving how focused her gaze was because as far as Emma knew, babies weren’t supposed to see very well. She’d read up on it just before Neal was born. Newborns in particular were supposed to be unfocused and unable to follow anything closely, but warm brown eyes appeared to track her every movement with distinct accuracy. She waved her fingers gently, fascinated as tiny hands made pretty accurate grabs, only denied their target by her superior reflexes.

"You’re gonna be a speedy little devil, aren’t you?" she whispered, nearly as fascinated by the game as the baby.

"Miss Swan?" Muzzy with sleep, exhaustion, and drugs, Regina’s low rumble was accompanied by the soft rustle of sheets.

Emma looked up as the other woman pushed into a sitting position with one hand and reached up to shove back the fall of her hair with the other. It was strange to see the normally put together, made up former queen looking exactly like what she was — a woman who’d given birth not very many hours previously. Dark circles ringed eyes that appeared considerably less focused than her infant daughter’s, while her skin was paler than normal, and her expression was exhaustion personified. At the same time, there was an unusual sort of beauty there as dark eyes shifted to the bassinet under Emma’s fingers, and Regina’s expression momentarily softened into an expression of such love that it nearly took Emma to her knees. Then the look ghosted away as Regina’s gaze tipped up to meet hers and defensive walls slid firmly into place, barely concealing a wariness that bordered on fear.

"Hi," Emma said very softly, everything about her tone and pose intended to present a non-threatening presence. "I ... uh ... Henry’s been really worried ... since you left ... and we — he," she quickly corrected herself as Regina tensed. Better to keep things in terms of Henry’s worries.

Regina simply nodded, her breathing taking on the slow, measured pace of someone controlling themselves very carefully.

"He _really_ needed to know you were okay," Emma finished, hoping to ease the tension she could feel if not understand.

Then tiny hands finally caught the dangling fingers they’d been chasing.

And Emma’s world was upended.

Magic. It swept across the tenuous connection between tiny hands and adult fingers and through her, not in a visible wave as it would in Storybrooke, but in an emotional one that left a thousand devastating questions in its wake along with the near-irresistible impulse to scoop the tiny newborn up and run like hell.

The child in the bassinet was hers. She knew it down her very marrow. It made no sense, was physically impossible, could not be, and yet it was. There was zero doubt. This baby was every bit as much hers as she was Regina’s, which made so many things make sense it wasn’t even funny, even as that fact itself made no sense at all.

"How?" was all Emma managed to croak when she finally found breath to speak.

To her credit, Regina made no effort to deny the implicit charge. "Magic," she offered the only possible answer.

"Of course," Emma exhaled, her tone suddenly bitter. "Did you—"

"I didn’t do it on purpose, if that’s what you’re about to ask," Regina cut in sharply. "Nobody did," she added, her voice softer this time. "It was a one in a billion confluence of events." She toyed with the sheet. "Hell, there’s probably a prophecy about it in one of Rumpel’s scrolls."

Emma turned her head to peer down at the tiny figure still playing happily with her fingers, and she suddenly saw all the things she hadn’t before — like how the brown eyes staring up at her were all Regina, but she could see Henry in the shape of a small chin and mouth, and in the infectious smile beaming up at her. She glanced up and froze as she saw the terror in dark eyes that she would follow through on the impulse to grab and go. Still weak from giving birth and without her magic, she was vulnerable as hell. "Were you going to tell me?" she demanded, her tone still hard, but less angry as she fought to get herself under control. Assuming the worst and scaring the hell out of Regina wasn’t likely to do anyone any good. She needed to back up a step and take things more slowly.

"Yes," Regina insisted, eyes darting back and forth between Emma and the bassinet. She must have seen the doubt in Emma’s eyes though because she quickly added, "You know how it was ... how bad things were."

"My fault," Emma ground out, the bitter comment the twisted mix of guilt-ridden accusation and furious defiance of the possibility.

"No!" Regina instantly denied the charge. She shook her head, eyes pleading for understanding. "I was going to come back, Emma. I swear. But I had to go."

"Why?"

"It was the only way to make sure she survived." ****

* * * * * *

**The Beginning**

"You’re Henry’s birth mother?" Regina’s shock was genuine as Henry ran past her after hurling his bomb. He disappeared inside the house, while the woman behind him stepped forward and began babbling, seemingly oblivious to the tension of the situation, even as an explosion of memories nearly took the former queen to her knees. In that second, it all came rushing back, her discovery of Henry’s identity, the intention to give him back that fell apart at the last moment when she realized just how much she already loved him. He was her son. She couldn’t let him go, but she also couldn’t live with the terror of losing him. So a cleverly designed potion had wiped the knowledge away until she needed it again.

And with the Savior standing in her front yard, she needed it like she’d needed few things in her life.

But the shift was jarring as hell.

One moment Henry was her adopted son and the biological child of some unknown, unrelated person out in the world. The next he was still her son, but now he was also the child of the Savior, the woman destined to destroy her. Regina clamped down hard on any temptation to give way to panic or even react to the sudden wave of knowledge. She needed to get herself under control, buy time, get her sea legs with this new information, then act.

After all, this woman was here to destroy her, and while she knew perfectly well she might not be able to outwit destiny, she sure as hell intended to try.

The woman offered an embarrassed smile and ducked her head the way a lowly servant might have in the old world.

Regina shook her head, still dazed by the change in circumstance. Quite the innocent act the girl had going there, but she didn’t buy it for a moment. No way in hell would Snow White send her spawn into another world without seeing to it that she knew her mission and had the training to see it through. Snow could be all hippy-dippy, love and peace, and talk to the birdies when it came to herself, but when it involved anyone whose job was saving her ass, she made sure they knew what they were doing. God knew, her soldiers had been willing and capable of decimating their opponents.

But Regina could play along if she had to. After all, opportunities could present themselves in the strangest ways and at the oddest times.

So she smoothed out her dress, forced herself to smile, be polite, even preen a bit when green eyes slid over her body with the kind of blink-and-you-miss-it hunger that no one had dared in decades. "So," she began, her tone as friendly as she could make it, the terror carefully hidden. "How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?"

* * * * * *


End file.
